


Blood and Fire

by iamremy



Series: Remy's tumblr fics [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, I'm so sorry, there is pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-18
Updated: 2014-06-18
Packaged: 2018-02-05 05:04:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1806334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamremy/pseuds/iamremy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>tricksterkat209</strong> asked: <em>Clint, Natasha : "You want me to do what?”</em></p><p>Tumblr prompt from tricksterkat209.</p><p> </p><p>  <em>It doesn’t matter how many times Clint has seen blood, or in how many forms. He doesn’t think he can ever get used to it.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood and Fire

**Author's Note:**

> _  
>  **I'M SO FUCKING SORRY PLEASE DON'T KILL ME**   
>  _

It doesn’t matter how many times Clint has seen blood, or in how many forms. He doesn’t think he can ever get used to it.

He’s far from squeamish, and he doesn’t vomit or faint at the sight of blood - he just hates it. He just hates the idea that so much life can leak out of a person in a matter of minutes.

He hates that sometimes, he’s powerless to stop it.

Steve’s going to be fine, though. His healing is accelerated by the serum, and he hadn’t lost that much blood to begin with. Tony has his armor, and Thor and Bruce are basically indestructible anyway. That leaves himself… and Natasha.

Natasha, whose hair is fiery as the blood all over her clothes.  _So much goddamn blood_ , thinks Clint dully as he watches her drop to her knees, one hand clutched to her side.

He moves almost mechanically towards her, one foot after another, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Nothing makes sense. She’s Natasha. She’s  _infallible_.

Except she’s not, oh holy shit she’s bleeding and the world is upside down  _none of this makes sense when did this happen—_

Clint drops to his knees besides her and gently pulls her close. She doesn’t protest, and that worries him more than the blood loss. “You’re going to be fine,” he tells her, but even to his own ears it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than her.

"No I’m not," she replies, and he waits for an eyeroll that doesn’t come. "I’m not, and you know it," she goes on. "Not even Stark’s tech can fix this."

"Don’t say that," he mutters. His eyes are still dry, but it’s only a matter of time. His voice has already begun to shake, even though he’s not the one going into shock. She is, but she sounds perfectly calm.

"Why not?" She doesn’t physically shrug, but it’s there in her voice. "It’s the truth." Her voice wavers on the last note, and that’s the last straw, that’s when the tears start to fall.

"No, come on, you can’t die," he says dumbly, his grip on her tightening like it just might bring her back from the brink of death. "Who the hell’s gonna take care of me if you die?"

"I don’t—" She stops, coughs. There’s blood leaking from the corners of her mouth as well. "I don’t want to die," she finally admits, and her voice is small and there are tears in her eyes. "Clint, I—" her voice is weaker, but her grip on his arm is not. "I don’t want to die."

 _Fuck fuck_ ** _fuck_**  if she’s admitting it then this is it, there’s nothing else left. There’s no way around it - she’s definitely not going to make it,  ** _fuck._**

She speaks again, and this time he has to lean in closer to hear her. “Just - just do me a favor, Clint.”

"Anything," he promises, and he means it.

He leans in closer, and she whispers to him.

"You want me to do what?" he says almost without thinking, the moment she’s done.

This time she  _does_  roll her eyes at him. “You heard me… idiot.” She smiles a little.

He smiles back, even though his is shakier and it’s a gigantic effort he puts into it. “Yes. Yes, I did.”

She closes her eyes a minute or so after that, and he holds her hand until her pulse fades.

* * *

Clint watches, hidden in the shadows, as the young girl onstage twirls gracefully. When he looks at her, he doesn’t see brown hair, gray eyes and a small, delicate body. He sees fiery red hair, green eyes and a deceptively small body that hides great strength.

He’s been following her ever since she was “mysteriously” rescued from the Red Room five years ago. She has no idea it was him who rescued her, and it was him who funded her ballet training anonymously. She’ll never know. 

She finishes her dance, and the audience gets to its feet. He leaves during the applause, and doesn’t even pretend he’s not crying.

**Author's Note:**

> ...I made myself sad :c


End file.
